


The First Day (and Night) of the Rest of Our Lives

by 221cbakerstreet



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Time, M/M, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 04:05:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19099402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221cbakerstreet/pseuds/221cbakerstreet
Summary: The first day of the rest of their lives.Even if this was the last, they thought, it was worth it.





	The First Day (and Night) of the Rest of Our Lives

The bus stopped directly outside Crowley’s flat.  
  
The driver looked dazed, not in the least bit because he had just pulled away from his last stop on Oxford’s high street, and now found himself, his bus, and his two passengers smack dab in the center of London. Aziraphale took pity, of course, and with a snap he promised the driver that he’d be back on his old route in no time, just drive up that way, there’s a dear. Crowley was smiling at him as he led him into the lobby of his rather swanky building, causing Aziraphale to gulp in hesitation.  
  
The elevator ride was the longest time they’d been silent in one another’s company for centuries. Aziraphale put it down to the stresses of the day, even as his own blush crept up to the tips of his hair, giving his face the startling facsimile of being on fire. Even Crowley, who had seemed so cool and collected when inviting the angel back to his was shifting his weight uneasily between his feet. When Crowley finally opened the door to his apartment, Aziraphale gasped.  
  
“Oh, hell, sorry about that, angel. Didn’t really have a chance to tidy up.” He glanced, grimacing at the what remained of Ligur on his floor.  
  
“Is that…?” Aziraphale gestured to the puddle. Crowley sucked his teeth.  
  
“Yes, and actually, now you mention it, I’m not entirely sure how I _would_ go about cleaning it up. Nasty stuff.” Aziraphale softened, miracling the mess away.  
  
“I’m just glad you didn’t hurt yourself.” The angel smiled, and Crowley smirked at him.  
  
“Honestly, you know I like being here far too much for that. I wouldn’t have just spent all this energy saving the damn earth if I didn’t want to hang around for a bit longer.” He ushered Aziraphale further into the space. Stark lines, sleek and modern. Beautiful, Aziraphale admitted, but cold. He missed his cluttered, dusty bookshop with a pang of sadness.  
  
“I need alcohol.” Crowley muttered, heading into the kitchen. “Wine or scotch?” Aziraphale was heading down the corridor, towards a splash of green against all of the glass and gunmetal.  
  
“Erm, wine, I think.” He replied absently. “Or maybe just cocoa- oh!” He gasped in delight.  
  
“Can’t have ‘just cocoa’ after a day like that.” Crowley responded with the pop of a cork.  
  
“Crowley, they’re… Beautiful.” Aziraphale beamed. Crowley met him with a glass of a fine red, and Aziraphale had to admit that the smell was heady and delightful. He wanted to soak into the embrace of the spirits like a warm bath. Aziraphale could swear that Crowley blushed.  
  
“Yeah, well, you know. I talk to them.” The demon muttered, and Aziraphale almost spit out his drink.  
  
“You what?” Aziraphale demanded, causing Crowley to go even redder.  
  
“You know. You’re supposed to… Talk to them. It makes ‘em grow better. Threatening is more like, honestly, have to let them know who’s boss, what the stakes are…” Crowley trailed off, and Aziraphale grinned.  
  
“Your own private Eden.” He beamed, and took Crowley’s hand. It was the first time they had touched since holding onto each other on the battlefield, and Crowley let out a small hiss of surprise at the contact. Aziraphale moved to let go, anxious about boundaries, but Crowley held firm and led him to an extremely uncomfortable looking sofa. Aziraphale took a seat and was pleased to find it much softer than he had thought, especially with Crowley sitting as close as he was. The silence returned, like low-level static electricity, a force that couldn’t be seen but felt. Aziraphale took tiny sips- it really was a lovely vintage- but Crowley sighed and downed his glass in one go, turning his amber eyes to meet the angel’s. Aziraphale swallowed.  
  
“Angel.” He whispered, still clinging to Aziraphale’s hand. Lord, had his eyes always looked like that? So intent, so piercing, so perfectly… They almost _glowed_ …  
  
Aziraphale closed the gap between their lips before he realized what he was doing. His wine glass clattered to the floor but neither of them could muster the strength to care, not about the wine- which had really been very good- or the pale, untouched carpet or anything but each other.  
  
Crowley felt almost as he had when he had walked on consecrated ground, all those years ago, for his angel. His lips seemed touched with a heavenly fire, and he wondered if Aziraphale was that holy, or if this was just what it felt like, to be loved. The angel pulled away, chaste and flushed, his eyes holding a desperate question.  
  
“You know, angel.” He murmured against Aziraphale’s lips, one hand twining into his pale curls. “You have to know.” Aziraphale bit his lip temptingly.  
  
“I’m afraid that, perhaps, I need some elucidation.” Crowley gasped out a laugh, making Aziraphale smile.  
  
“How long?” The angel asked, as Crowley drew delicious little circles on his scalp.  
  
“For me?” Crowley wondered. “At least since the Arrangement. Probably before. If I’m going to be honest, that’s mostly what the Arrangement was about. Seeing you.” Aziraphale’s eyes widened.  
  
“Since 1020? You’ve… Loved me… Since 1020?” Aziraphale squeaked. Crowley gave him a lopsided grin.  
  
“I never said _that_. That was when I knew that I just… I wanted to be around you. As much as possible. I don’t know when _exactly_ that became love.” The demon shrugged. “What about you?”  
  
“1941.” Aziraphale stammered, a bit too quickly. Crowley gaped. “Do close your mouth, dear boy, I don’t mean that I didn’t… love you before, only that… After the bomb fell, after you saved me and… And saved the _books_ , well I… That was when I knew I was _in_ love with you.”  
  
“80 years.” Crowley whispered, running his hand through Aziraphale’s hair. “What were we waiting for, angel? We could have had a lifetime already.”  
  
“We have.” Aziraphale assured him, grasping his face and running a thumb along his cheek. “We’ve had so many lifetimes, dearest. It’s just that, now we have…”  
  
“The rest of our lives.” Crowley finished, sighing. “However long that might be, once our sides get through with us.”  
  
“Shh.” Aziraphale silenced him with the briefest of kisses. “We can think about that tomorrow. Tonight is the first night of the rest of our lives.” He echoed, then kissed Crowley properly, with all of the gentle passion that made up what was so intrinsically _Aziraphale_ about him. Crowley dove headfirst into the kiss, his entire body enveloped in a delicious fire. He pushed the angel down onto the sofa, lying atop him like some wanton thing, aching to be deeper in Aziraphale’s warmth. He pulled desperately at the countless layers and buttons that kept him from Aziraphale’s flesh, that parted them.  
  
“You wear… Too much clothes.” Crowley gasped between kisses, and Aziraphale chuckled, the sound a purr against his lips.  
  
“You could always miracle them away.” He suggested, dropping a hand from Crowley’s hair to help with the buttons, but the demon swatted his hand.  
  
“I want to _unwrap_ you.” Crowley growled, causing a shiver to run through Aziraphale. “You’re _mine_.” Aziraphale gasped as Crowley’s lips descended on the sliver of skin that was now visible at his neck- lips, then teeth.  
  
“Heavens, Crowley.” His voice, tinged with desire, pouring out the demon’s name made Crowley want, need to do it again. He grazed his teeth along the angel’s clavicle, mercilessly at first, then gentle, reveling in the delicious sounds coming from below him.  
  
Suddenly Aziraphale’s hands were on him, needy and insistent, pushing his jacket off his shoulders, then trying to figure out how to remove his shirt without breaking the wonderful contact Crowley was bestowing on his neck and moving downwards. Crowley eased back and allowed Aziraphale to pull the shirt over his head, straddling the angel’s hips and realizing something amusing.  
  
“I thought you told me everything.” Crowley purred, rocking his hips against Aziraphale’s and causing the angel to see stars as he lazily undid the buttons on his waistcoat.  
  
“Of course I do, my dear boy.” Aziraphale assured him, quite breathless. Crowley ‘tsk tsk’ed, before rutting his hips down once more. He finished with Aziraphale’s buttons and ran his hands lazily along his chest, his belly, his sides, making the angel arch into him… And making something else become very obvious. He leaned down and nibbled Aziraphale’s ear.  
  
“You never mentioned… Making the effort.” He punctuated his point with a thrust of his erection against the angel’s, which, it was now very obvious, existed. Aziraphale gasped.  
  
“Well neither did you.” He mumbled, Crowley’s tongue doing filthy things to the shell of his ear. “It never exactly seemed polite dinner conversation.” He mused.  
  
“Who?” Crowley demanded, and Aziraphale glanced up in shock.  
  
“Well I never… I never _used_ it.” The angel stammered, swallowing. “I just wanted to… Well, eating and drinking were so lovely, humans have such clever ideas and I just wanted to see what all the… _Fuss_ was about.” Crowley couldn’t help but laugh. He snaked a hand down their chests, coming to rest on top of Aziraphale’s painfully out of date trousers.  
  
“So you never…” He grazed his hand along the length, making Aziraphale gasp and bite into the back of his hand. He pulled it away, to his own lips. “No, angel, if anyone’s going to bite you tonight, it’s going to be me. I want to hear every sound.” His forked tongue worked along Aziraphale’s fingers, delicately, a sharp contrast to what he was currently doing with his other hand.  
  
“Not… Not with anyone.” Aziraphale muttered, trying to get his own hand down to Crowley’s rather ostentatious belt buckle, but the demon was thrusting his hips and making it damn near impossible for Aziraphale to think about anything. His tongue ran down Aziraphale’s hand, resting on where there would be a pulse if he were human, dropping feather-light kisses along his wrist. The implication did _not_ escape him.  
  
“With yourself, then?” Crowley asked, returning his attention to divesting Aziraphale of his frankly absurd layers of clothing. The angel burned so hot, it wasn’t like he needed it for warmth.  
  
“All alone, reading some salacious novel in the back room of your shop, what did you imagine?” Aziraphale arched his back so that Crowley could divest him of the jacket, waistcoat and shirt, and Crowley took the opportunity to attack his neck in earnest, now that it was bared to him entirely.  
  
“You.” Aziraphale choked, and Crowley stopped, pulling himself back. The angel’s face was ablaze once again, flushed and looking thoroughly debauched.  
  
“Me?” Crowley asked, hardly daring to put voice to the word. His angel looked up at him through long lashes.  
  
“Of course it was you, Crowley.” He grabbed the demon’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “It’s only ever been you.”  
  
Without a word, Aziraphale found that they were suddenly no longer on the sofa, but splayed out on a massive bed, with-  
  
“Black silk sheets? Really, Crowley.” He smirked, pulling the demon’s face down so their lips met once more. This kiss was anything but chaste- this kiss held thousands of years of want, of need, of desire, of hope, of companionship, of love. Aziraphale felt his entire self poured into the kiss, and felt Crowley meet him in kind. It was as if they were the same, two sides of one whole, putting themselves back together after bing too long apart.  
  
They both shimmied out of their pants, needing more contact than they could get through the fabric, through Crowley had to do a strange little dance to get his tight leather trousers off of his ankles, causing Aziraphale to laugh.  
  
“Oh, I’ll punish you for that, angel.” Crowley hissed, crawling above him once more and placing a deep bite on his hip. Aziraphale, to his credit, stopped laughing immediately, but it was less because of Crowley’s threats, and more because of the moan that escaped him at that moment. Crowley continued biting, more gently now, and making sure to use his uniquely talented tongue to ease the sting all along Aziraphale’s hips and inner thighs. Basically, everywhere directly abutting where Aziraphale wanted his mouth, but not exactly where he needed it.  
  
“Please, Crowley.” Aziraphale begged. It was too much sensation. He tried to grasp his own erection, but Crowley swatted his hand away.  
  
“I thought we established that touching you was my job.” He insisted. Aziraphale stared at him, desperate, wanting.  
  
“But I have to admit, angel,” he laved his talented tongue along the underside of Aziraphale’s cock, causing him to grip the sheets beneath him for what little purchase they gave, “It is nice to hear you beg.” He wrapped his mouth around Aziraphale and the angel bucked deliciously against him. Crowley couldn’t help but stare- against the dark silk, Aziraphale seemed to glow with an ethereal splendor. How lucky he was, to make his angel feel this, to make him gasp his name. He swallowed around Aziraphale’s cock, and the angel bit his lip.  
  
“Crowley, please. I’m going to… I want…”  
  
“What do you want, angel?” Crowley asked, regretting that he had to take his lips off his angel to speak.  
  
“I want to come with you inside me.” He gasped, surprised both by his brash words and his desire. Crowley moaned, kissing his way up Aziraphale’s body until he was at his lips.  
  
"Are you sure?” He asked, his voice husky, his eyes dark, pupils wide like a cat’s. Aziraphale nodded, pulling Crowley in for another earth-shattering kiss.  
  
“Never been more sure.” He insisted, bringing Crowley’s hand to his mouth and sucking two fingers past his lips.  
  
“Filthy angel.” Crowley murmured, and Aziraphale bucked his hips, mewling around the demon’s fingers. Crowley removed them with a pop, and teased gently at Aziraphale’s hole. The angel moved to give him access, and, with the assistance of a bit of demonic intervention- bless Aziraphale for his wanton displays of affection, but Crowley was not going to enter him for the first time with spit and a prayer, excuse his French- his finger was coated with a generous amount of lubrication when it penetrated him. Aziraphale gasped at the intrusion, not that the feeling was unpleasant he just felt… Full. He liked it, and angled his hips so that Crowley could move deeper into him.  
  
“More.” He begged, and Crowley bit his lip.  
  
“Fuck, angel.” He swore, adding another finger, pulling Aziraphale into a kiss as he worked him open. He curled his fingers, felt Aziraphale go rigid beneath him, and smiled into the kiss.  
  
“Good?” He asked, as if the angel’s frenzied breaths and bucking hips weren’t answer enough. Aziraphale hooked a leg around his own thigh and pulled him closer.  
  
“Need you, dearest.” He moaned, and Crowley couldn’t think of any words he’d rather hear. Aziraphale mewled at the loss of his fingers, but Crowley was quick to line himself up at the angel’s entrance, rubbing his thick cock between Aziraphale’s plump cheeks with delicious slowness, teasing. Finally, when he felt that Aziraphale was going to burst, he entered him, cursing heaven and hell as the delicious heat enveloped him. He tangled a hand in Aziraphale’s hair, fixed his teeth on the angel’s neck, and began to thrust. Aziraphale’s hands gripped the sheets until he thought he’d tear straight through them.  
  
“God in heaven… Crowley…” Aziraphale moaned, arching his back so that each of Crowley’s thrusts hit him deep and long.  
  
“Angel…” Crowley murmured against Aziraphale’s neck, his forked tongue dancing across the angel’s skin. He rutted against Aziraphale, animalistic and needy, filling him over and over until all the angel could do was scream his name. He let go of the sheets and wrapped his arms around Crowley’s neck, as if he could pull him closer, feel him deeper. Crowley began to lose control, his movements becoming rougher, as he plowed into the angel, feeling his tight heat contract around his cock.  
  
“Crowley… I need…” Aziraphale sobbed against Crowley’s lips. The demon wrapped a long-fingered hand around Aziraphale’s cock, bobbing impossibly hard and wanton between them.  
  
“Come for me, angel.” He whispered, thrusting himself so deep into Aziraphale that he saw stars. He felt the hot rush of Aziraphale’s orgasm cover his hand, and the sensation of the angel tightening around his cock. He kissed Aziraphale desperately, riding out his own orgasm with sweet whispers of adoration against his angel’s lips.  
  
He collapsed beside the angel in a daze, breaths ragged, limbs entwined. He rested his head on Aziraphale’s chest, planting tiny, gentle kisses against his skin. He felt Aziraphale pull him close, and turned his face up to kiss him properly, snapping off a quick miracle to clean them up and pull a warm blanket over the two of them. They kissed lazily, falling in and out of sleep, reassuring themselves whenever they woke that the other was still there.  
  
“Love you, angel.” Crowley whispered, not knowing if it was night or morning, if Aziraphale was asleep or awake.  
  
“I love you so, dearest.” Aziraphale responded, and Crowley felt as if his heart might burst.  
  
The first day of the rest of their lives.  
  
Even if this was the last, they thought, it was worth it.  
  
-    -    -  
  
Crowley moaned in protest when Aziraphale moved to extricate himself from the bed the next morning.  
  
“Angel, stay. There’s nowhere to _go_.” He insisted, but Aziraphale was already beginning to dress.  
  
“I think I figured it out.” He said. Crowley sat up in bed, sheets pooling at his waist, eyeing Aziraphale warily.  
  
“Figured what out?” He asked, still hesitant to break the cocoon of sated warmth and love that  had led to the greatest rest he’d had since the 19th century. Aziraphale tossed him the pants he’d discarded the evening before.  
  
“I’ll tell you over breakfast.” He insisted, scurrying out of the room, but not before planting a gentle kiss on Crowley’s lips.  
  
-    -    -  
  
Crowley had no idea where Aziraphale had gotten the ingredients for a full English breakfast, especially since his own kitchen supplies were limited to alcohol and very little else- and he suspected that the angel had miracled in the ingredients only to actually cook the food himself, which seemed like far too much work to Crowley- but he had to admit that, even as an occult being that didn’t technically need to eat, the events of the day and night before had left him ravenous.  
  
“So you’re saying-“ Crowley murmured through a mouth full of beans and toast, “that Agnes knew how our respective head offices would punish us in these extremely specific ways, and was warning us that we needed to…” This was where he became fuzzy… “ _Become each other_ in order to survive it, and that after we do they’ll just… Let us be?” Aziraphale beamed, nodding. Crowley shook his head, reaching for more eggs. “S’too dangerous, angel. What if we switch, and you’re down there as me, and they change their minds? Say ‘oh no, holy water’s too quick for this traitorous filth, maybe after a few millennia locked in the cells of eternal torment we can take him out and give that old water a try’. No, I’m not leaving you down there to suffer for my crimes.”  
  
“Crimes? really, Crowley, we did nothing- we _saved_ \- it doesn’t matter.” Aziraphale finished, exasperated. He took Crowley’s hand. “I’ve spoken to Anathema. I told her about hellfire being the only way to kill an angel, and she agreed that it was the most likely translation. Her family has spent centuries studying these prophecies-“  
  
“And Hell has spent millennia testing out new and interesting ways to inflict the most horrific pain possible.” He wrapped Aziraphale’s hand tightly in his own. “If I’m up in heaven, worst case scenario, besides the hellfire, is probably Gabriel lecturing me to death. But the worst case scenario for _you_ , down there,… I can’t, angel. I can’t think about what they’d do to you. What if they figured it out?” Aziraphale was shocked to see those striking amber eyes so close to tears. He didn’t even know if Crowley could cry.  
  
“They won’t.” Aziraphale insisted. He smirked. “I could be you in my sleep. Just watch.” Aziraphale rocked back in his chair, dipped two fingers into his orange juice (“Fresh squeezed? Really, angel?”) and flicked it at Crowley in what the demon had to admit was a startling reproduction of his own mannerisms.  
  
“Oh Lord Beelzebub? This holy water could do with some warming up.” Aziraphale mimicked, shockingly well. Crowley caught his fingers and drew them into his mouth, licking them dry, causing Aziraphale to squirm.  
  
“Trust me, Crowley.” It was hard for the demon to disagree with Aziraphale’s fingers in his mouth. He popped them out and sighed.  
  
“What makes you think we can even do this, angel?” He pleaded, lacing his long fingers with Aziraphale’s. The angel gave him a shy smile.  
  
“Well, to be honest, I don’t think we could have…” The blush from last night returned, and Crowley had to say that it was a good look on him. “Before last night. I felt something… I don’t know if it’s because we’re… What we are, whether it’s angel and demon, or… Soulmates, or what have you-“ Aziraphale squeaked out the last bit, hoping to get past it before Crowley realized what he had said- “But I think that we can-“  
  
“Hold on.” Crowley stopped him, eyes wide. If possible, Aziraphale’s flush darkened even more. “You think-“  
  
“I mean, I’m not certain, and I’m not trying to make you feel… It doesn’t have to be… If you want something less serious, we needn’t define-“ Aziraphale stumbled over his words, but Crowley waved them away.  
  
“Angel, I’ve known that you were my soulmate for centuries.” Aziraphale blinked in surprise. Crowley softened. “Like you said. It’s only ever been you.” Aziraphale smiled, gripping Crowley’s hand just a bit tighter.  
  
“But are you saying that Agnes Nutter knew that we were going to shag?” Crowley demanded. Aziraphale gave him a look that very clearly said “Oh, dear boy, bless your heart”.  
  
“Agnes, and everyone in a five mile radius, Crowley.” Aziraphale chided. “You really have to stop calling me ‘angel’ in public if you want to be discreet.  
  
-    -    -  
  
Showing up at the bookshop in Aziraphale’s body had been a bizarre experience- both because Crowley was still getting used to walking around with the face of the angel that he had loved for centuries, and because the last time he’d been there had been the worst moments of his (extremely long) life. He was glad to see that the bookshop was the same, at least for the most part- it felt like such an intrinsic part of the angel, and he didn’t know if Aziraphale would truly feel like Aziraphale without it. He was looking forward to telling the angel about the little gift that Adam had left him. He scanned the shop with a tempter’s eye. Yes, he was very glad that the shop was still standing. He had a lot of fantasies about this shop, and what he wanted to do to Aziraphale, and have Aziraphale do to him, over that desk, in the back room, and against his prized shelf of first editions.  
  
Aziraphale, though as angelic as one can be after centuries on earth, felt that some of Crowley’s demonic energy must have permeated his form, because, at that moment, he was having very similar, devilish thoughts when he saw that the Bentley was returned, good as new.  
  
Adam had even remembered the James Bond bullet-hole windscreen clings.  
  
Aziraphale briefly considered showing up to their meeting in the Bentley and watching Crowley absolutely lose himself over the car, but he thought better of it, knowing that it would be an even nicer sight when they both returned. That, and he had never actually learned to drive.  
  
-    -    -  
  
It was an even more bizarre experience, for the both of them, going through the decades-old motions of strolling through the park and getting ice cream as their opposite number. Aziraphale felt a bit dizzy, if he were honest, and was glad to have Crowley’s dark shades to hide his eyes which still widened in surprise each time he saw, well, himself. It took all of his control not to use Crowley’s dextrous hands to grasp his own. Crowley seemed much more at ease with the situation, which surprised Aziraphale. The angel- demon? No, still an angel, thus the holy water trick- was still playing through the events in his head. Not the events that were soon to pass, no, he was confident that after 6 millennia with Crowley, the vast majority of those years spent paying attention to every minute detail of the demon in what he now realized to be hopeless lovesickness, he could pass for Crowley blindfolded, and had no doubt that Crowley could do the same. It was the events of last night. It was what was to come after, once they succeeded. Did they keep going as they had done for so many years? Did they settle down, get a cottage together, live happily ever after? Were they even allowed to do that?  
  
“Do you understand what happened yesterday?” Aziraphale blurted, and Crowley gave him a rakish grin with his own face.  
  
“Well, I understand some of it.” He gave Aziraphale an appreciative glance. “But some of it is just a bit too…”  
  
_Ineffable_? Aziraphale was going to finish for him, but all too soon, it had begun.  
  
-    -    -  
  
Seeing Crowley sitting on the park bench, bathed in sunlight, even in his own body made a lump rise in his throat. Hell had been… Well, it had been Hell, of course, but more than that. Heaven was cold and callous and full of bureaucratic demagogues with a penchant for cruelty but that… Aziraphale shivered. If he had anything to say about it, Crowley would never set foot in that place again. (Unbeknownst to him, Crowley was having some of the same thoughts, but vice versa). The angel smiled to see Crowley lounging on the bench, seeming completely at ease in Aziraphale’s form. He had to admit, as he ran a deft hand along his- Crowley’s- thigh, there were some rather interesting activities he could think up now that they had this new, err, party trick.  
  
He sat next to the demon, who immediately entwined a hand in his own.  
  
“We did it, then.” Aziraphale smiled, and Crowley brought the angel’s hand to his lips, causing him to shiver.  
  
“I hope so.” Crowley whispered against his skin. “Do you think they’ll leave us alone now?” He asked hopefully. Aziraphale nodded.  
  
“At a guess, they’ll pretend it never happened.” He assured him, and did, at least for the moment, believe his words- Beelzebub had been horrified that news of Crowley’s strange new immunity would get out, and Gabriel was undoubtedly taking the reins on a similar campaign of misdirection.  
  
Changing back into himself was unusual, if welcome. There was an odd allure to being able to move Crowley’s body as he liked, but he much preferred viewing the demon through his own eyes. And, if he wanted to make Crowley’s body do interesting and wonderful things, well then, he certainly had that power himself, as he’d seen the previous night.  
  
“I asked them for a rubber duck.” He smiled, and Crowley gaped at him. “And made the Archangel Michael miracle me a towel.”Crowley lost it at that, descending into a fit of laughter. It was comfortable, like falling back into a cozy chair with a good book after an incredibly long day.  
  
“Let me tempt you to a spot of lunch?” Asked Crowley with a wry smile. Aziraphale responded with a smile of his own.  
  
“Temptation accomplished.” They rose together. “What about the Ritz?” The angel suggested. “I believe a table for two has just miraculously come free.”  
  
It was the first day of the rest of their lives.  
  
There was magic abroad in the air.  
  
And they both thought, if they tried hard enough to hear it- yes, there it was.  
  
A nightingale, singing in Berkeley square.  
  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[An incredible human being actually made art of this story? I'm losing my mind! ](https://joddit-y.tumblr.com/post/185441644028/more-good-omens-fanart-because-i-have-a-problem)


End file.
